A Deal with the Devil - A Rose and Ten Fanfiction
by lifeisshiny
Summary: (WIP) When their plans to visit the golden age of Hollywood go awry, the Doctor and Rose find themselves in 16th century London, where they run into none other than the famous Renaissance playwright Christopher Marlowe. However, things are not as they seem...
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. I make no money off of this. Just spreading the Ten/Rose love! :)**

**Unbeta'd.**

The Doctor swung open the door of the TARDIS, while calling out to Rose. "Here we are, Rose! The golden age of Holl–" His voice cut off abruptly. "Um, Rose...you might want to change your outfit..."

"You haven't even seen it yet!" Rose protested, checking her reflection in the mirror. She was wearing a backless evening gown in a muted blue. It had a floor-length hemline and a white flower on the left shoulder. She had left her hair down, but she had styled it into soft curls. She smiled at her reflection approvingly. No matter what the Doctor said, she thought it was perfect for crashing a Hollywood party in 1937. She left the room where she had been changing and walked out into the TARDIS control room to present herself to the Doctor. "It's not that bad, is it?"

The Doctor, still looking out through the TARDIS door, turned around, his mouth open as though he was about to speak, but he completely froze when he got his first look at his companion. His chocolate brown eyes about doubled in size, and he ran a hand through his already-tousled brown hair as he searched for the right words. "You...I..." he stammered. "You look beautiful."

Rose beamed, spinning slowly around. "See, it's not so bad, is it?"

"Not at all. It's just..."

"It's just _what_?" Rose asked.

"Well...we didn't land quite where I said we would..."

Rose gave the Doctor a puzzled look. "So, where are we?"

"Well, instead of Hollywood...we're in Deptford...and instead of 1937..."

Rose raised an eyebrow, waiting.

"...we're in 1593. It's...not _unlike_ Hollywood..._well_...okay, it is a bit..."

"A bit?" Rose frowned and folded her arms across her chest, pretending to be cross.

The Doctor sighed and pulled his sonic screwdriver out of his jacket pocket. "Are we going to explore or not?"

Rose grinned. "Obviously."

The Doctor grinned back. "Brilliant!" He bolted out of the TARDIS and right into the middle of sixteenth century England.

"Slow down!" Rose called, nearly tripping as she ran to catch up with him. "I had to wear heels with this dress, you know!"

The only response she got was the Doctor's delighted laughter as he disappeared amid the throng of people walking up and down the city street.


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. I make no money off of this. Just spreading the Ten / Rose love! :)**

**Unbeta'd**

"Help! Please help!"

Rose had just barely caught up with the Doctor when a young serving boy had come bolting down the street, screaming for help at the top of his lungs. She and the Doctor exchanged looks, and the Doctor walked over to the young man.

"I'm a doctor. What's happened?"

"It's Kit Marlowe! There's...there's been an accident!"

Realization dawned on the Doctor's face. "Deptford. Of course. That would make today May 30th, then."

The serving boy gave him a strange look. "Yes, it is...what's that got to do with anything?" The boy was pale, and his entire body was shaking. "He's dying!"

"Of course," the Doctor said, shaking his head. "I'm sorry." He put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I'll come take a look at him."

As the serving boy led the Doctor and Rose to the place where the accident had occurred, Rose noticed that the Doctor seemed troubled.

"What's the matter?" She asked, lowering her voice so that the young man wouldn't hear. "Usually you're thrilled when you get to be the hero!"

The Doctor sighed. "I can't help him, Rose. This is it. This is the day that Marlowe dies."

Rose frowned. "Oh."

"Christopher Marlowe was stabbed to death today, May 30th, 1593, in an argument with a man named Ingram Frizer."

"So, what are you going to do, then?"

"Make him comfortable, I suppose."

The serving boy stopped in front of a well-kept house.

"This is what it happened," The Doctor whispered to Rose. "The guest house of the widow Eleanor Bull."

They made their way into the sitting room, where Marlowe was sprawled across the couch. There was a huge gash across one side of his face, and he seemed to be unable to open one eye.

The Doctor rushed to his side. "It's okay, I'm here. I'm a doctor. I'm here to help." Marlowe was trying to speak, and the action seemed to be causing him a great deal of pain. A small line of blood trailed from his mouth and down his chin.

"What's he saying?" Rose asked, her voice full of concern.

The Doctor leaned in close to Marlowe to try to hear him better. Marlowe attempted to speak again, managing only the merest hint of a whisper. In his feverish state, the man appeared barely aware of what he was doing. The Doctor's eyes grew wide. He rose and took a step back from the couch.

"What?" Rose demanded. "What is it?"

"He said he can't die," the Doctor replied, his voice a mixture of surprise and fear. His eyes never once left the man on the couch. "He said…'They promised.'"

Following the Doctor's line of sight, Rose looked down at Marlowe, and gasped loudly. "Oh my god! Is he…?"

The gaping wound across Marlowe's face seemed to be shrinking right before her eyes, fresh new skin growing to cover it.

"Healing himself." The Doctor finished for her, looking at Marlowe with disapproval. "Unless he's Captain Jack Harkness, he shouldn't be able to do that," he muttered to himself.

"What did you say? Did you say something about Captain Jack?" Rose asked, turning to face the Doctor.

The Doctor cleared his throat, turning back to Marlowe so he wouldn't have to meet Rose's eyes. "Not important. Hand me a washcloth, would you?"


	3. Chapter 3

As the Doctor wiped the blood off the face of the now-unconscious Marlowe, Rose looked on in concern. "How…how did he do that?" she asked, taking a step back from Marlowe.

The Doctor had concerns of his own, and he muttered to himself as though he had forgotten Rose was standing right next to him. "'They promised.' That's what he said. 'They promised.' Who are _they_?" He was wiping off a patch of blood from Marlowe's chin when he noticed the chain around Marlowe's neck. "Hello, what's this?" The chain held a large metal disc with strange markings. The Doctor promptly ripped it off of Marlowe's neck and ran over it with the sonic screwdriver. "Thagesian, I think." He furrowed his brow. "What would Thagesians be doing all the way out here?" He bit down on the medallion. "Yep, definitely Thagesian." Rose gave the Doctor a Look. "What?" He asked, the medallion still hanging out of his mouth.

At that point, Marlowe awoke with a jolt. He was now completely lucid. "Who are you?" he asked, eying the Doctor suspiciously.

"Where did you get this?" The Doctor demanded, gesturing to the medallion. His expression was stern.

"That's mine! Give that back!" Marlowe jumped to his feet and snatched it out of the Doctor's hand. He seemed to be in a state of panic. "What do you think you're doing, stealing off an injured man?"

"He was trying to help you!" Rose exclaimed, moving to stand protectively in front of the Doctor. The Doctor didn't respond, just staring at Marlowe thoughtfully.

"I don't need help!" Marlowe snarled.

"Clearly." The Doctor said, his voice eerily soft. "Someone's already protecting you."

A look of pure fear passed briefly across Marlowe's face, but he quickly hid it behind anger and hostility. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"You're supposed to be dead, Marlowe," the Doctor answered bluntly. "And I think you know it."

"You healed yourself," Rose said. "A normal person would have died from those wounds, and you're up walking around without a scratch."

Marlowe shrugged, trying to appear much more casual than he truly was. "I was just lucky, I guess."

The Doctor shook his head. "That wasn't luck. What's going on, Marlowe?"

"Nothing!" Marlowe snapped. "I don't even know you people. Just leave me alone!" And with that, he stormed out. The Doctor sighed and let him go.

"It's not nothing, is it?" Rose asked.

"It's not nothing." The Doctor agreed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the medallion. "This represents a transaction made with the Thagesians. It's like a sales receipt."

Rose looked at the medallion with confusion, pointing at it, and then at the door Marlowe had just stormed out of, and then back at the medallion. "Wait…Marlowe took that from you…and now…but…how did you…get that?"

"Marlowe bought an extension on his life…but that's impossible! He couldn't have known he was going to die, could he?" The Doctor began pacing frantically back and forth across the length of the sitting room.

"You're not listening to me at all, are you?" Rose asked.

"And more importantly, what did he sell them in return?"

Rose sighed. "Yeah. Definitely not listening to me."


	4. Chapter 4

A few hours after storming out of Eleanor Bull's guest house, Marlowe awoke in a dark alleyway, with no memory of how he'd gotten there. His heart sank. Not again. Please not again. He very reluctantly looked beside him, only to find the corpse of a young serving woman. She had not a mark on her, but she was most definitely dead. Her eyes were dim, devoid of life, and they were covered in a strange film. Her skin was a horrible greyish colour.

"Did I cause this?" he wondered to himself. Instinctively, he raised his hand and felt for the medallion around his neck, as he had done the first two times, to remind himself what he was paying for, and that it was worth the terrible price. He felt a knot form in his stomach when he realized that there was nothing around his neck.

The medallion was gone.

He emptied his stomach, right in the middle of the alley. His heart was racing, and he could barely breathe. What would happen to him now? What if the Thagesians refused to honour their bargain without the medallion? What if they punished him for losing it? What if...what if...?

Had he given up everything...for nothing?

Meanwhile, Rose and the Doctor had left the guest house and were now wandering the streets  
of Deptford, trying to blend in. Trying, and failing. Rose's gown wasn't exactly inconspicuous. Rose wasn't too concerned about it though. In her time with the Doctor she had become very good at ignoring the strange looks people frequently gave them.

"So, what do we do now?" she asked.

The Doctor frowned. "There's a man walking around who should be dead. We've been here before, Rose. You know how this ends."

Rose _did _know, and it wasn't good. She tried to cover up the shakiness in her voice when she asked, "How much time do we have before the Reapers come?"

"A couple of hours, if we're lucky?" The Doctor didn't look as though he were putting much store in luck right then.

"Well, in that case, we'd better get to work!" She said, giving him an encouraging smile.

The Doctor looked at Rose, and she could see in his eyes exactly what he was thinking. His companion, _his Rose, _believed in him, and that was all he needed to save the day once again. "Right, Rose Tyler." He gave her a confident grin. "Allons-y!"

"Where are we going?" Rose asked.

"I want another word with Marlowe."

"And how do you plan on finding _him_?"

"We'll have to go door to door, asking if anyone has seen him. He could have left the city by now..."

Rose, seeing something over the Doctor's shoulder, tried not to smile. "Oh...I don't think he's left the city."

"All the same, I think we need to plan for the..." Comprehension dawned on the Doctor's face. "He's right behind me, isn't he?"

Rose nodded. The Doctor turned to find Marlowe brandishing a sword in a shaky hand. "You will give me back what is mine," he demanded in an even shakier voice.

The Doctor took a careful step towards Marlowe. "But it's _not_ yours, is it?" he asked, his voice soft. "Not really. Tell me who gave it to you. What was the trade?"

"Why should I tell you anything?" Marlowe demanded, but he did lower the sword.

"Because I can help." The Doctor answered earnestly.


	5. Chapter 5

A short time later, Rose, the Doctor, and Marlowe were back at the guest house, sitting around a large wooden table. Rose and the Doctor were listening intently as Marlowe explained all that had happened.

"It began with that strange woman. This was about a fortnight ago. We passed each other on the road, and she grabbed my hand. She told me..." He took a deep breath. "She told me I was going to die. That I was going to die in a horrible, painful way. And soon. I was so scared..." He voice broke then.

"It's okay," the Doctor reassured him. "Go on."

"She said she could help me. She was a member of a group I'd never heard of...They called themselves Thagesians. She said that, for the right price, her people could ensure that I survived that injury that was supposed to kill me. Not only that. She said they could make sure that _no_ injury could _ever_ hurt me. I've done some work...some dangerous work...so I was tempted, even if I was still skeptical."

"So what did you do?" Rose asked.

Marlow hung his head. "I agreed to meet with them."

"And what happened when you met with them?"

"I thought they were some sort of satanic group. A part of me honestly didn't believe they could do half of what the psychic had claimed."

"But?" The Doctor prompted.

Marlowe waved a hand. "It's...it seems foolish. You won't believe me."

"Try me."

Marlowe leaned in conspiratorially. "They weren't a satanic group, the Thagesians. I think...I think they were...not of this earth."

"You mean like...aliens?" Rose asked, trying to hide a smile.

Marlowe nodded.

"Aliens!" The corners of the Doctor's mouth twitched as well. "In Deptford! You don't say!"

"I knew you wouldn't believe me." Marlowe protested, rising as though he might storm out of the room once again.

The Doctor's expression sobered. "I believe you."

Rose put a hand on Marlowe's shoulder. "We both do. I promise."

Marlowe looked warily from Rose to the Doctor, and then slowly sat back down. "They were horrible. They were two, maybe three times the size of a man, and their skin was this burnt yellow colour, and their eyes...their eyes..." He paused to collect himself. "They said some words, in a language I didn't understand. The next thing I knew, I was waking up in an alley in town, with _that_ around my neck," he gestured to the medallion, which now rested in the middle of the table, "and the body of a dead men beside me."

The Doctor's eyes widened. "That's the trade? A life for a life?"

Marlowe couldn't meet the Doctor's eyes. "I'm afraid it's much worse than that. It happened two more times, waking up next to a corpse. And...the second time...I had blood on my hands, and I could taste it in my mouth. I don't know how...but I think...I think I am the one killing these people." His eyes were welling up. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do it! I can't even..."

"Marlowe, listen to me. You were right. Those creatures you saw...they weren't of this earth. They took advantage of your fear. They used you."

"But why? What would they want from me?"

"I don't know...but I am going to find out." The Doctor narrowed his eyes. Rose could tell that, beneath his calm expression, he was furious. "The place where the psychic took you. Do you remember where it is, Marlowe? Could you find it again?"

Marlowe thought about this for a moment, and then nodded an affirmative. "Why?"

"Because I think it's about time I had a talk with these Thagesians." The Doctor's voice was icy, and his expression was one Rose knew all too well. As the Doctor followed Marlowe out of the guest house, she found herself feeling a brief moment of pity for the Thagesians.


End file.
